


PMD: The Good, The Bad, and The Feral

by spinaltapdancer3



Category: Pokemon Mystery Dungeon
Genre: Other, Some Graphic Violence, Western, definitely not Arc, definitely not Beck, definitely not Rye, don't let your memes be dreams, just do it, references to other fics
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-30
Updated: 2021-01-30
Packaged: 2021-03-16 05:08:53
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,742
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29076882
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/spinaltapdancer3/pseuds/spinaltapdancer3
Summary: This is a meme fic. I'm not wasting time giving it a summary.
Comments: 2
Kudos: 3





	PMD: The Good, The Bad, and The Feral

A singular Treecko trudged through the dusty main road of the town. The sun baked the earth, un-obscured by clouds. A small flock of Mandibuzz hovered overhead.

“Soon,” the treecko muttered. He pulled out a map. The map was old and crinkled, but still legible.

The Treecko studied the map. The giant red X was located in between three plateaus. The graveyard wasn’t too far away, but he still had maybe a day’s journey to go. 

The treecko stared at the map for a while. He wouldn’t make it to the graveyard before nightfall. Better stay in town, lest he turn into a snack for the swarms of Zubats that took to the skies at night.

Still, it’s not like he couldn’t make his time here productive, get supplies, get the latest intel from the locals. He looked about, nobody was out. Granted it was mid-day so everyone was either at home tending to his farms, or hiding out in the saloon, away from the oppressive heat of the sun. He looked up and down the street looking for his destination. He found it on the left side of the street. A squat mortar and brick building, with a sign out front that simply read “Sheriff’s Office”; it even had a little stylized yellow star below it.

The Treecko walked in, and looked around. Wasn’t too interesting, about as average of a lobby as you can get. A bored looking quilava was sitting behind a desk, ignoring the newcomer. To the right was a bulletin board, it was probably the community board, as it had a fair diversity of posts.

**Wanted** : Dead or Alive: off color egg thief Sneasel Reward: 500 poke

**Looking for dreamstone** ! Contact the local knife shop for reward.

**Wanna know your future?** Come learn Mist Magic! Teleport to this location...

**Cardiac Monarchy after hours reading club:** hosted by Riolu, Pancham, Hakomo-o, and Bidoof

**Twisted Horizons Live Concert Tonight** : Starring: 3 catz, ghost dad, blue pupper, spinach lizard, and time onion

“So you gonna just stand there or you got a reason comin here?”

The Treecko was startled back to the present.

“Oh um sorry, nothin specific. I’m just stopping by to see if I can get some information. I’m planning to travel to the plateaus. I’ll probably be gone by sunup tomorrow.”

“plateaus huh. Would recommend ‘gainst that, Phoenix Tribe doesn’t take too kindly to visitors.”

“I know, but I gotta do this. Prove myself!”

“Ehh, whatever, your funeral. If you’re interested in the plateaus, probably wanna talk to the chief then.”

The quilava leaned back in his chair and pounded on a door behind him. “Hey Chief, some kid wants to talk about the plateaus.”

A muffled voice replied. “Then send them in!”

“Better go see the boss then. Go through that door, first door on the left.”

The treecko walked through said door and made his way down the hallway till they reached a door on the left. The Treecko gave a polite knock, and walked in.

The first thing the Treecko noticed was the absolute clutter everywhere. Mysterious curios littered the walls. A massive bookcase was overflowing with books. There were at least 7 copies of Goodnight Moon and a singular copy of A Modest Proposal. What appeared to be a human skeleton was standing in the corner. Finally, in the middle of it all was a golden pelted Arcanine.

“Howdy! You said you were interested in the plateaus?”

“Yeah, I’m looking for something, hoping to be an explorer! I think finding this will prove my worth and the local guild will accept me!”

“Looking to join a guild eh? I used to be a part of one back in my youth.” The Arcanine gave a wistful stare. “500 years ago. Anyways about the plateaus, I go there quite often myself, however there’s been a lot of activity by the Phoenix tribe in those parts recently. I’d recommend going armed, and maybe even hirin’ a bodyguard or two.”

“All right, I’ll keep that in mind. Thanks for the advice!”

The Treecko walked back the way he came. The Quilava was staring hungrily at a Tauros Steak that he had gotten from… somewhere?

“Thanks for the help!”

The Quilava looked up, having not noticed the Treecko.

“Oh yeah, uh sure, no problem.” Then went back to eating his meal.

The Treecko stood outside the Sheriff's office.

_ Hmmm. Where would I find mons willing to fight for coin…. I know! The Saloon! _

With that figured out, the Treecko headed down to the local watering hole.

\-----------

“Sh ááá …. “

A sombrero wearing Oshawott with a poncho was laying face down in the sand. It stirred trying to get up, but it was so exhausted it couldn’t find the energy to do so. The sand was rough and coarse and was getting everywhere. His poncho, his Sombrero, his little banjo off to the side.

_ ¿Dónde estoy? ¿Por qué no puedo recordar nada? _

The little Oshawott tried to get up again, but his tiny body was too tired, too sapped by the sun’s heat. They felt the darkness of unconsciousness surround them, and went back to sleep.

\----

A Pikachu wheelchaired his way into the saloon, doors swinging as he sat in the dusk's light. Everyone turned, Poker cards fell on tables, cigars glowed in the shadows. A single tumbleweed blew in. Arc rolled up to the bartender. 

"One Sarsaparilla, best you got." 

The Bartender silently poured one out, filling it to the brim.

"I need help tracking someone down. Bad hombre about, someone brought me into this world as a cripple, and I ain't leavin’ till they restore my legs. Dead or Alive."

“Ohh that’s big no go here little dude. Mon only comes to live in this forsaken place for one reason. To escape his past. You lookin’ for someone, I recommend you stop. Locals don’t like outsiders coming in to snoop.”

“Tchh, I wasn’t asking.” A little electric arc flared between his ears.

A big burly Machoke stomped up to the counter. Whoever in the Saloon hadn't been paying attention to the conversation was definitely paying attention now.

“This little cripple givin’ you trouble keep?”

“Ohh nothing of the sort, just a newcomer, unaware of our customs here. I’m sure he is perfectly reaso-”

A massive arc of electricity jumped from the Pikachu into the air, hitting the Chandelier, tiny sparks skittering across the floor.

“I don’t care about yo’ stupid ‘customs’ here. A mon wronged me, and I’m going to make sure they get the chance to set it right. I would recommend you tell me what I’m after, else things gonna get ugly.”

Dead silence.

The machoke spoke first. “Nice light show you got, but I think it’s time you left.”

“I ain't going anywhere.”

“Don’t make me wheel out the trash.”

“You touch the wheelchair. You die.”

The Machoke snorted and touched the wheelchair.

“I’d like to see you try little pik-.”

“Omae wa mou shindeiru.”

“Nani!?”

The Machoke was sent flying back from some invisible force. his body starting twitching. Then *pop*, his head exploded plastering the area in red.

All heads turned back to the chair bound Pikachu. The Bartender was shivering in fear.

“Name’s Arc by the way, fastest spark in the west, and like I said, I don’t like waiting, so you better get to answering.”

\--------------

A singular blindfolded Sawk was being dragged across a plateau, tied up and carefully led by two Marowaks. He didn’t know where they were, merely that he was minding his own business, smashing his way across the plateau when he was jumped by some Pokemon, and blacked out.

The Sawk did not struggle much; resigned that they had been captured. He was lead for a while, then stopped. The blindfold was ripped off.

Before him stood a singular Xatu, staring out across the desert. The Sawk tried to say something but found that his mouth was shut by some psychic force. The Xatu turned around and looked at the tied up Sawk for a moment, then spoke.

“I remember a time before the ‘civilized’ mon came. Back before the great railroads crossed the deserts and those filthy towns started springing up. We used to live the proper way, we used to live how Pokemon  _ should’ve _ lived. Not unlike those uncivilized brutes in the desert below.”

The Xatu looked out across the desert.

“Pathetic wretches, digging at the dirt, like wriggling caterpies, trying to “farm”. They toil at the earth because of his own inferiority, they do not know how to soar and conquer like us here in the Phoenix tribe. They do not know how to properly hunt, they bring in tame ferals and eat those, they have never had to experience the hardships of earning your food like we have. They are lazy and weak, with his ‘Kentucky Fried Archen’ and Cubone soup.”

The Xatu stood silent for a moment.

“Yet they come all the same, in ever increasing numbers. Although we are the prime hunters, you civilized mons came in such quantities that it is hard to exterminate all of you. Tell me, are you mass produced at one of your ‘factories’, do you grow out of the ground like weeds? How are there so many of you?”

The Xatu gave a curious stare at the Sawk.

“Regardless it matters not. We are the prime hunters of the plateaus, it is our duty to hunt the weak so that the strong may live, such has it always been. You are weak, so you must die.”

The Sawk’s eyes bulged and started to struggle, but it was futile. A psychic force gripped and sent them hurtling across the plateau ledge, to be shattered across the pointed rocks below.

The Xatu stared at the sun for a while, unblinking, unmoving.

“Marowak brothers.”

“Yes Director in Chief?”

“I have just received a vision, we will have trespassers coming across these plateaus. I see a Pikachu, a Treecko, and an Oshawott. It is your job to make sure they are worthy of making it out alive.”

“Yes sir!”

With that the Marowaks left. They understood the orders perfectly. The weak must die so the strong may live. Either the trespassers would die, or they would.

\----------

The Treecko wandered lazily down the street. The dust was slowly picking up, and all was still quiet. 

_ Guess it’s still too hot out to do anything. Or they’re just all at the Saloon, what else is there to do here? _

He had heard of this place in a tourist pamphlet once. From what he had read, outside of the Tauros steak the local area produced, this town was famous for having a laughing Bench?

_ Might want to check it out. _

It wasn’t hard to find, there was only one Bench on the main road. The Treecko stared at it.

_ It’s not laughing. Man can’t trust those pham- _

HAHAHAHAHAHHAHAHA

The Treecko jumped in the air a little, startled by the Bench that had indeed started laughing. The Treecko looked around, but it was just him and the maniacal laughter of the Bench.

_ Well I guess they weren’t lying. That is indeed a laughing Bench. _

With that thought, the Treecko left for the saloon.

\-------

The Treecko entered the saloon.

Then immediately turned around and walked back out.

Then walked back in again.

Then rubbed his eyes and looked inside in disbelief.

Blood was spattered across the main area, a headless Machoke slumped over in the middle of it. Various groups of Pokemon were seated across various tables. Some were playing Poker quietly, some were in the middle of loud conversations. Off to the side a Pokemon in a cardboard box was talking to a Swampert and a Buizel. A Pikachu in a wheel chair was talking to the bartender. None of them seemed to notice the dead body in the middle of the floor.

The Treecko quietly tiptoed his way around the body, making his way up to the bar. The bartender seemed to have finished his conversation with the Pikachu and quietly walked over to the Treecko.

“Wh-What will it be, young sir,” the bartender asked, clearly shaken by something.

“Oh nothing to drink, I’m just wondering where I could find some guides or some fellow adventurers. I need to make it to the plateaus.”

“Well you definitely came to the right place then. I reckon half these tables have mercenaries who would happily take you through the plateaus, assuming you have the coin for it.”

“Coin… oh.” The Treecko looked down at his loose coin pouch, it barely had anything in it. He didn’t even have to ask to know he wouldn’t have enough.

“Say, heard you were going through the plateaus.”

The Treecko looked up and saw that the Pikachu had rolled over.

“Y… Yeah.”

“I’m heading there myself. Need to get through it to get to the shadowlands, I got some business to attend to on the other side. Say what’s your business in the plateaus?”

“Oh… uh I found this really cool map that supposedly leads to a treasure, and uh, I’ve always wanted to be an explorer. So I thought if I brought back the treasure, then I could prove my worth and join the guild.”

“Guilds huh. Can’t say I heard of them. Tell you what, I could use the extra hand getting through the plateaus. I’ll come with you, and if the treasure is more than one thing, we split it? What do you say?”

The Treecko thought about it. A free bodyguard, albeit one in a wheelchair, sounded good. He didn’t really need the full treasure, the treasure was more of a receipt to prove he could explore. It sounded like a good deal.

“Sure. Sounds like a deal.”

The Treecko and the Pikachu shook hands.

“C’mon little Treecko, we gotta get stocked up on supplies.”

\----

When the treecko had heard “we gotta get stocked on supplies” he was thinking about food and maybe some water. So he was a little surprised when he found himself in front of a shop called.

“Fierra’s blaster, sports, and chopshop” Emporium

For all your steak, hunting, and fly fishing needs

_ Who runs a fly fishing shop in the middle of the desert? _

“Um… Mr.Pikachu, are you sure we’re in the right place?”

“Of course we’re in the right place! Can’t you see the blaster?”

“Well yeah… but what about food, what about water?”

“What to do you think the blasters are for?”

“The blasters? You can’t eat bla-... oh.”

The treecko gave a horrified expression.

_ We’re going to hunt our food? I mean I guess, but still… . C’mon Rye you want to be an explorer, you have to be tough. Don’t back out now. _

The Pikachu had already wheeled his way in, Treecko decided to follow. A slight ringing sound echoed throughout the store as the door hit a tiny bell above the doorframe. Rye and Arc browsed the selection a little bit, before heading up to the counter that also doubled as a bar. A Typhlosion was wiping down the counter as they approached.

“Wares or food, I got both.”

“Right now we’re looking for wares. Might need some water as well.”

“Water I have plenty, guessin you young lads be adventurers? In regards to wares, I got some stored back here I don’t put out. You lookin’ to kill or you lookin’ to fish?”

“Wares of the killing variety.”

The typhlosion was reaching below the counter and started putting out some closed canteens. Probably filled with water.

“Well you both be pretty small, but I got some weapons for your size. Basic armory stuff like swords, spears, armor, but I also got some of those newfangled blast seed launchers as well if you got coin.”

“Good to hear. I got the blast seed launcher already, just need ammo. Might need a launcher for my fellow tree-”

“Actually I’m good, I have my items and my moves, I don’t need anything Ms.Fierra.”

“Old school huh. I can respect that. Anyways what size launcher you got? I probably got the ammo as long as the model you got is not imported.”

The Pikachu responded by pulling out a launcher easily half the size of his body from a holster attached to the side of his wheelchair.

“Smogon and Weavile Magnum .44. I’m thinking maybe 40 more rounds?”

The Typhlosion gave an impressed and mildly concerned look at the Pikachu. She muttered “how does he even hold that thing” under her breath. She ducked under the table, presumably scrounging for the ammo. After some shuffling, swearing, and some rummaging, the Typhlosion laid out 40 modified steel tipped blast seeds. 

“I believe these will do?”

“They will do fine madam. Got any hollow points?”

“Unfortunately not, my Zoroark mechanic is away on personal matters. Apparently his Lucario brother has been struggling with some mental illness, and Zoroark has decided to take some time to help them work through it. This’ll come out to be 4000 poke.”

“A family man I see. Good for him.” The Pikachu then slapped a bag full of coins on the counter.

“This should cover it.”

The Typhlosion counted out the coins. Apparently satisfied she pulled out a piece of paper and signed it.

“Here’s the receipt, best of luck to you to both.”

“Oh, uh, thank you mam!” Rye replied.

“Don’t need luck, but I appreciate the sentiment.” Arc answered.

\----

After a good night's sleep the duo headed out. The sky was a dark blue as the sun had barely started to peak, throwing an orange halo across the horizon. Two sets of prints, two straight lines and a pair of gecko pawprints, were quickly swallowed up by the shifting sands. 

“Gosh Mr. Pikachu-”

“The name is Arc, not Mr. Pikachu.”

“Oh.. uh, sorry, name’s Rye, if you wanted to know Mr.Pik- I mean, uh, Arc”

“I didn’t.”

“Oh…”

The pair continued to trek in silence. The heat becoming stronger as the day went longer. 

“Gosh Arc, it sure is hot out here, If I were a Togepi I’d probably be sunny side up-api at this point.”

“... Treecko.”

“Yeah?”

“Don’t ever try to make a pun again.”

“What, it wasn’t that bad.”

“Yes it was.”

“No it wasn’t.”

“Yes it was.”

“Wanna hear a joke?”

“NO.”

“Jiminy Cricket is that a poncho wearing sombrero hatted Oshawott with a banjo!?”   
  
“...What dumb type of joke is that.”   
  
“No look in the sand ahead!”

Sure enough off in the distance, the Pikachu could see said clothes-wearing Oshawott. They ran (or wheeled) over to the poor suffering Oshawott. Rye quickly pulled out a canteen and gave some water to the blue Pokemon. 

“Osh…..”

The Oshawott silently groaned, and slowly opened its eyes and stood up. It then seemed taken aback by the two comrades that surrounded him.

“Sh ááá !“ the little Oshawott replied. Not really sure what to think. Or where it was. Or what to do.

“Oh look it’s a feral. Wonder where it got the banjo from? Also Oshawott’s aren’t native to this area, this guy must be far from home,” Arc commented.

“He looks lost…”

“No really? Come on, let’s go, not interested in becoming a Zubat’s snack because you wanted to play rescuer.”

“What about the feral?”

“They’re a feral, they’ll be fine, come on.”

With that the Pikachu started wheeling off towards the plateaus, the Treecko reluctantly followed them. He gave one wistful stare back at the Oshawott. He felt as if in another lifetime they had been close friends. Then turned around and followed the Pikachu.

Unbeknownst to Rye, B éck felt the same way. With nothing else to do, he picked up the banjo with his tiny little Oshawott paws; and followed the duo into the desert.

\---

The trio continued along this path, eventually reaching the foot of the great plateaus.

“Uhh… It looks like the Oshawott followed us.”

“Dammit, never give anything to a feral, they’ll leech onto you like a Remoraid to a Mantine. Long as it keeps its distance, it’ll be fine. So where did you say you needed to go?”

“I need to find a graveyard, apparently the Krillian Marauders had a huge stash of contraband located under one of the graves.”

“Really? Never knew that.”

“I have the map that leads to the graveyard. I also have the grave location, I just need to get there safely.”

“Hmm, then it looks like we split ways after finding the treasure, my business is on the other side.”

“Guess so, still will be nice not being alone for the first half though.”

They entered the canyons that formed from the plateaus. The air was silent and the heat haze was strong as the sun climbed through the sky. The tiny Oshawott continued to follow them, more out of curiosity at this point. Treecko began to lead using the map to weave his way through the plateaus. This continued until they were deep in, when they were suddenly stopped by two voices.

“Halt! Who goes there.”

“None of your business. Show yourself if you want to live.” replied the Pikachu.

“Brave souls I see.” Two Marowaks stepped out from behind some rocks.

“Our illustrious director has directed us to challenge you. You see you are within Phoenix tribe territory, and within our lands there is only one law, only the strong may pass.”

“Really, w..what sort of challenge? I like to think I’m pretty strong for a Treecko, you want us to lift some rocks, do some push ups? How do you want us to prove our strength?”

“No. A battle to the death.”

“W..What!?”

“Ok.” In a blink of an eye Arc pulled out his Smith and Wesson .44 and blasted the two Marowaks heads off. Then he fired a shot into the air. A few seconds later a dead Mandibuzz came plummeting down.

“Thank goodness, it was approaching lunchtime and I was getting hungry.”

“W..What!? They’re.. They’re dead.”

_ Ohmygodohmygod, getittogthergetittogether, deep breaths deep breaths deep breaths. _

The treecko was eventually able to calm themselves down after much deep breathing. He then looked over at Pikachu who had somehow acquired a knife and was fileting the Mandibuzz.

“Shame I blew their heads off, could’ve used their skulls as bowls. Oh well, I’ll get a campfire going. Any particular cut you want?”

The Treecko merely turned around and vomited. However feeling queasy and frankly a little rattled by the very short lived ambush, Treecko decided to sit on a rock to recover themselves. The Pikachu continued to prepare the meat, and eventually the combination of hunger and the scent of meat now roasting over a fire convinced the Treecko to come over.

“I’ll guess I’ll have some.”

“Well hurry up then, we ain’t got all day...” the Pikachu said now pointing at the slabs of meat cooking over the fire.

The Treecko gingerly took some. It was kind of meh, given the complete lack of seasoning, but given how hungry he was, it was passable. They sat in silence, when suddenly a massive growl was heard.

They both turned their heads to where it came from. 

“Come out where we can see you, and do it slowly if you want to live!” the Pikachu barked.

A very ruffled looking Oshawott with a banjo, sombrero, and poncho, came out from behind a rock. It looked dishevelled and exhausted.

“Gosh dang it, it’s that feral, knew we should’ve left it there in the sand.”

“Look, Pikachu, I think it’s hungry.”

“You want to feed it some more? What, you plan on making it your pet?”

“What!? No!?”

“Sh ááá !?” the Oshawott replied indignantly.

“I just think that we should help a Pokemon in need, that's all. Also don’t you think it’s kinda weird that this “feral” has a banjo and clothes. I’m starting to think this is a civilized Oshawott, maybe it just has a speech impediment.”

“Civilized huh?” The Pikachu stared at the Oshawott. “Step to the left.”

The Oshawott stepped to the left.

“Raise your hands.”

The Oshawott raised his arms.

“Play something on that banjo.”

The Oshawott played a few strings on the banjo.

“Well gosh darn, I think you may be right. Sorry for assuming there little fella, come and join us then.”

The Oshawott quickly scampered over and hesitantly took some of the meat. They stared at it a little, then gave a little nibble, then just started wolfing it down. It was apparent they hadn’t eaten in a long time. The three of them sat there in silence, drinking plenty. Absolutely baked by the combination of sweltering heat and campfire. 

After some time they put out the fire with sand, buried the leftover meat as they had no way of preserving it, and continued on.

“So where we headin’?”

“The graveyard is in a clearing between three big plateaus, It’s actually due north of us right now, I think we’ll get there in about an hour.”

“Lead the way then.”

The Treecko led the way and the Pikachu and Oshawott followed. The Treecko’s prediction was right and it took them about an hour to get there.

The graveyard was exactly that, a small graveyard composed of small grey tombstones.

“Okay so they buried the treasure under the tomb of a Smeargle.”

The three Pokemon split up, searching the tombs for any indication that might show a Smeargle was buried there. Surprisingly, it was the Oshawott that found it.

“Sh ááá ! Sh ááá !” The Oshawott cried out waving his hands.

The Pikachu and the Treecko rushed over and sure enough the tombstone had a drawing of a vicious looking Smeargle.

“Looks like we found our place.”

The three got out some spades and prepared to dig up the site when they were interrupted.

“Well, well, well. What we got here.”

A Weavile, Roselia, and Mightyena walked into the graveyard.

“We’ve been following you little Treecko since the Saloon, we heard you got some map that leads to some treasure. So thanks for leading us right to it. Now, unless you want to have a bad time, I’d recommend you scram, we’ll take it from here.”

“Now hold on just one moment. What makes you think we’re just going to leave that easily.” Replied the Pikachu taking out his Magnum and giving it a twirl.

“Nice toy you got there, but I wouldn’t be too hasty,” said the Weavile taking out a spiky orange orb. “This here is a one shot orb, director's cut edition, not that weak stuff explorers and red and blue rescuers use. It’ll take you all out in an instant.”

“Not if I blow your brains out first.”

“You think you can kill me before I activate the orb?”

“I don’t think, I know.”

“Well then it appears we are in a true Mexican standoff.”

“True” said a new voice, causing everyone to stare as a golden Arcanine and a Quilava walked out from another set of rocks.

“But it wouldn’t be proper Mexican standoff without a third party now would it? Just so you know I’ve rigged the entire place with explosives.”

“Wait.. what? When did you accomplish that?” the Treecko queried.

“Wott?” the Oshawott added in, but in Spanish.

“Oh I’ve had plenty of time, see I’m in league with the Phoenix Tribe. I picked up a mutual friendship with the Director based on our shared love of human history. I knew you would come here, and I also knew the fastest route here, thanks to my connections with the Phoenix Tribe. So if y’all would please leave, me and my deputy have a treasure to collect.”

“I can shoot pretty fast old man, I’m not going anywhere.”

“This orb will get you before either of you can do a thing, It’s you two that need to leave.”

The three groups stared each other down, each one believing they had the upper hand. The silence was omnipresent, only punctuated by the wind and the screech of a Talonflame gliding above.

Suddenly a Xatu teleported on one of the plateaus above them.

“I can take this no longer. You inferior mongrels have managed to get yourselves in a situation so contrived it could only come out of some b-list, no, c-list movie. You are all too dumb to live.”

With that the Director of the Phoenix Tribe psychically activated the explosives.

Rocks fell. Everyone died.

**Fin**


End file.
